


Forfeit

by dontlookitsfilthy



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Ending, Canon Divergence, Choking, F/M, Face-Sitting, M/M, Multi, Piercings, Rape, Sibling Incest, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:18:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontlookitsfilthy/pseuds/dontlookitsfilthy
Summary: The ideal scenario had, of course, been one where Taako escaped Wonderland with everyone else, but.You made sacrifices, here, or else you took the penalty. Taako had weighed his options and made his choice. So even now, bound and nauseous and dizzy and held at Lydia’s nonexistent mercy, he reaffirms to himself: it was the right choice to make.





	Forfeit

**Author's Note:**

> If you're here, I assume you've read the tags and decided that this is, indeed, a fic you want to read, but let's make this clear. **This fic is torture porn.** That's not an exaggeration. That's a fact. **Please do not read this if it's going to upset you.** There is no good ending. The best you can hope for is the fact that a day or two after this fic ends, the Hunger will destroy Wonderland and everyone in it.
> 
> Additional warning: a character vomits as a result of injuries in this fic.

Taako puts up a fight, as best he can. He’s not going to go down quietly. But it’s a token effort, a refusal to admit his loss until he has no other choice. He knows he can’t win, he knows he’s not leaving here alive, and Lydia and Edward know it, too. His vision hasn’t stopped spinning in a long, long time, his steps are unsteady, like a drunken newborn calf, and the Umbra Staff is gone, along with Merle and Magnus. Even if he’d kept it, he knows he wouldn’t have been able to magic his way out of this one, nothing left in him but cantrips. He still thinks it was the right choice, to keep Lydia and Edward from getting their hands on it—stupid, maybe, to feel that way about a glorified wand, but it makes him ill to think about the liches so much as touching it. Still, his fingers long to wrap around the curved handle, to draw that inexplicable feeling of comfort and security from it.

So he struggles, but it’s a matter of seconds before Lydia has him on his knees, holding his arms twisted painfully behind his back. Edward grabs him by the hair and yanks his head forward, and Taako sees the knee coming toward him in time to close his eyes, at least. He cries out at the impact, pain overflowing through his entire face, and he’s not sure if he heard a crunch or only felt it, but he  _ is _ sure of the warm blood he can feel dribbling down his upper lip. He slumps forward, Lydia’s hold keeping him kneeling mostly upright, and Edward pulls at his hair again, forcing his head back this time. His throat is bared, muscles taut, as Lydia refuses to allow him any slack. The spotlights above the catwalk burn as he squints his eyes open, struggling to focus on the lich in front of him; it’s no easy task when his vision keeps sliding to the side, slipping and spinning and blurring and doubling. 

“You’re going to regret that,” Edward informs him. Hair still in Edward’s tight grip and head still tilted back, Taako feels blood start to drip down his nasal passage instead of down his lip, and he winces. 

“Yeah,” he wheezes, and even moving his jaw to speak pulls at the muscles in his neck and shoulders, sends fresh throbbing pain through his skull. “Probably.” He can see the black clouds rise up from his mouth with the admission, but what does it matter now? There’s no point anymore in trying to resist, no reason good enough to withhold what tiny fragments he can from Edward and Lydia’s power supply. Magnus and Merle and the Animus Bell are gone; Taako remains.

“Costing us the Animus Bell  _ and _ two victims for Wonderland?” Lydia’s voice is low, and she must be leaning in, because Taako can feel her breath on the shell of his ear. “We were  _ going _ to let you die after this, but now? You owe us a  _ lot  _ of suffering.”

He grins, wryly—he’d laugh in her face if he didn’t know just how much it would hurt. Let him die? As if they’ll be able to  _ stop _ him. He can sense his body desperately prioritizing what to save and what to abandon, his hindbrain’s base urge for survival already primed to give up his senses, his mobility, his  _ coherency, _ anything he has to spare, if it will keep his heart and lungs going. He’s already sacrificed so much, here, though—there’s not much in him left before he burns through every last reserve. It won’t be much longer, now.

He feels the drag of Lydia’s fingernails up the tender inside of his exposed wrist—the bracer, at least, protects one arm from her touch—followed by the  familiar sensation of cords binding him, wrapping tight from wrist to elbow, straining his shoulders back as far as they’ll go. She gives a few extra tugs, making certain it’s secure, and he fully expects to be shoved to the floor now, unable to catch himself. Instead, Edward adjusts his grip on Taako’s hair, and Lydia works around him, draping excess rope over—oh. She pulls, and the makeshift collar tightens around Taako’s throat. Both of the liches chuckle when he chokes, and Lydia finishes tying the cord around his neck, then connects it to the bindings on his arms. 

He hasn’t yet got the hang of breathing again, still struggling to inhale through the restriction, when Edward drops him, and what little air that  _ was _ in his lungs is knocked out when he hits the floor. He’s still gasping, too breathless and helpless to even think of trying to get to his knees, when Edward’s booted foot connects with his gut, rolling him onto his side. Instinctively, his body tries to curl, and he chokes himself when he bends forward. Coughing and gagging, he writhes weakly at their feet, his lungs desperate for air and fighting against his spasming diaphragm and throat.

Edward squats down next to him, watching with a satisfied smile as Taako struggles to breathe. At least, Taako  _ thinks _ it’s a smile—his vision’s still blurred and shifting, blotchy black spots blooming in his peripherals, but it feels safe to assume Edward would find plenty to grin about, here. 

“Look at you,” says Edward, reaching down to grasp Taako’s chin. With his thumb (gloved, in smooth, soft kidskin) he wipes at Taako’s lip, and the realization that he’s spit all over himself while choking is almost worse than the actual choking itself. His shoulders heave as he gasps, his mouth wide open as if that will help him, and Edward’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, now there’s a pleasant surprise. Lydia, come look at this.”

Too late, Taako realizes what Edward’s seen, as the lich shifts his grip, fingers wrapping around Taako’s jaw and digging into his cheeks, holding his teeth apart and preventing him from closing his mouth. Black mist billows over Edward’s hand as Taako whimpers, and Edward’s cruel smirk only grows as he uses his other hand to reach between Taako’s teeth and pinch his tongue between thumb and forefinger, pulling on it. 

“Oh, I  _ like _ that,” Lydia says, her own fingers joining her brother’s. Taako squeezes his eyes shut as he feels her tug on the metal stud in his tongue, but she doesn’t yank, only pulls enough to cause discomfort. “We  _ have _ to see how that feels.”

There’s not a whole lot of different interpretations to a sentence like that. Taako can’t stop another despairing whine from escaping his throat, and Lydia’s laughter is pitched low with sadistic amusement. “We’re going to have such  _ fun _ with you!” she says, giving his piercing one last little tug before she and Edward release his tongue. “I don’t think we’ve gotten this hands-on with a participant in  _ years, _ have we, Edward?”

“It’s been quite a while,” agrees her brother, loosening his grip on Taako’s face. Though he knows it’s pointless, Taako bites down the instant he can move his jaw again, and his teeth snap when they come together. “So fierce,” Edward taunts, his hands still roaming Taako’s face. His thumbs trace along Taako’s cheekbones below his eyes, fingernails pressing through the gloves against the sensitive skin of his lower eyelids with implicit threat; his fingertips follow the shell of Taako’s ear; he flicks at the small, simple, silver hoop earrings he comes across; he traces the paths of dried blood that trail down Taako’s forehead and cheeks; and he wiggles a finger between Taako’s throat and the rope wrapped around his neck, laughing when Taako flinches and twitches and chokes on his next breath. 

“I’ll get us started, if you want to attend to some of our other participants,” Lydia croons, and Taako lets out a startled noise as the Levitate spell lifts him. Even with his eyes still closed, the sensation of spinning, of spiraling uncontrollably, doesn’t stop, and it sends a wave of nausea pouring through him. The back of his tongue goes tense, extra saliva pooling in his mouth, and he doesn’t bother to warn the liches that he’s about to be sick. His stomach clenches, and he vomits while choking himself on his own restraints yet again, his body’s automatic urge to curl in on itself only causing more damage. 

“Disgusting,” Edward trills, malicious glee in his voice, and Lydia giggles. Taako feels the Prestidigitation sweep over him, but it doesn’t remove the taste of acid from the back of his mouth, and his nose aches, blood and snot and sick mixing anew on his upper lip within moments after the spell has cleaned his clothes and face. “Don’t have too much fun without me,” comes Edward’s voice again.

“I can’t make any promises,” Lydia teases. 

Taako doesn’t risk opening his eyes, as he feels himself pulled along, trailing through the air after Lydia’s footsteps. Levitate isn’t a bumpy ride, and he manages to keep at bay the next few surges of nausea that try once more to rise through his stomach. There’s not much point to trying to watch his surroundings, to see where she takes him, not when it’s more likely than not she’ll simply use the first empty room she comes across, furnishing it to her liking with Wonderland’s black smoke. This is likely to be his last, short moment of respite, and he tries to drift, briefly, into a meditative state, sagging into the spell’s hold and relaxing his body, regulating his breathing as much as he can. 

He doesn’t regret what he did. Regret, mistakes—those are things that happen to  _ other _ people. He’d assessed the situation, and come to an unfortunate conclusion regarding his, Magnus, and Merle’s remaining assets and abilities, and how they compared to Lydia and Edward. So Taako had made a decision, and he’d stuck with what he knew.

He’d hustled. 

He can’t remember half of what he said, now. He’d been blurting whatever came to mind, mouth going at double time, leaning back on his Umbra Staff as though he could afford the casual posture, as though his ribs  _ weren’t _ probably broken, as though he had anything worth offering, and as though his bargaining  _ wasn’t _ a last resort. He’d known, of course, that the liches would double cross him; he’d known that any agreement they came to wouldn’t actually mean anything. And he was just a shallow, idiot wizard, wasn't he? A dumb elf who couldn't walk and chew fantasy bubble gum at the same time, let alone do something as complex as dowsing undetected while pulling a con. So Lydia and Edward hadn't worried, confident enough in their magic to let Taako talk, and he'd bought enough time to figure out the Animus Bell’s location. And it wasn’t like  _ he _ was going to feel particularly honour bound to any agreements they came to, either.

The ideal scenario had, of course, been one where Taako escaped Wonderland with everyone else, but.

You made sacrifices, here, or else you took the penalty. Taako had weighed his options and made his choice. So even now, bound and nauseous and dizzy and held at Lydia’s nonexistent mercy, he reaffirms to himself: it was the right choice to make. 

“So compliant,” Lydia comments, letting her spell dissolve, and Taako falls out of his trance and onto the floor with a yelp. His eyes fly open, and the room is so dark he almost can’t tell his if his vision is still spinning, until his eyes land on Lydia. She crouches down next to him, and his gaze slips past her before jerking back into place, then falling again. He lets his eyes close once more, breathing loudly through his mouth. He can feel his heartbeat in his broken nose and broken ribs, in the bones of his wrists and in the veins of his neck, pumping rapidly against the ropes. “I’d almost think you  _ wanted _ things to turn out this way.”

“Fuck you,” Taako groans, his words slow and slurred and barely audible. Isn’t there something more creative he can say? Can’t he summon up a final, cool one-liner? 

Lydia giggles, a low, pleased sound, and Taako recalls her and Edward’s fascination with his tongue piercing. He regrets his choice of words even more. 

“I like you much better like this,” she says, rolling him onto his back so his bound arms are crushed under his own weight. “None of that silly posturing and fake positivity. I want to hear it, when we hurt you.” She drags her fingernails down his throat, over the ropes, and when she reaches the dip of his collarbone, she digs her nails into his exposed skin. The noise he makes is quick and small, more breathless gasp than voice, but Lydia hums in satisfaction. 

Taako’s chest is heaving as he takes fast, shallow breaths; he grits his teeth as he feels another spell cut through his blouse and cloak. The ruined garments fall off of him, shredded fabric landing to either side, pieces of the blouse still caught in the ropes around his arms. There’s a pause, then, and he lets his eyes flutter open just enough to register that Lydia’s looking him over before she does anything more. He doesn’t keep his eyes open to see what she’s looking at—he knows his freckles continue all the way down his shoulders and arms and chest, he knows his skin is stained with dark bruises and red welts by now, and he knows what she’s commenting on when she says, “My, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

This time, when Lydia draws her hand across him, her nails leave stinging trails behind, scraping across his chest and down his stomach. Her next pass drags her fingernails over his nipples, purposefully catching on the small metal hoops and pulling until another wordless whine claws its way out of Taako’s throat. 

“How does that feel? I hear it makes them extra sensitive,” she all but purrs, tracing light circles around his areola. He whimpers again, as she continues to play with the piercings, tugging and rubbing at his nipples, no doubt eating up his every squirm and flinch under her hands. He hates that he’s already giving her such reactions for such little effort, but if he doesn’t let himself whine and cry, he knows he’ll start trying to speak.

He’ll start begging, pleading, words like ‘please’ and ‘stop’ and ‘no.’ 

But if he doesn’t beg them to stop, then they won’t be able to refuse and laugh at him as they keep going. They won’t be able to hold that control over him. They won’t be able to remind him that he doesn’t get to choose.

It doesn’t change anything that’s going to happen. It doesn’t make him any less helpless. 

Disguise Self doesn’t give him back his beauty, but he can work with illusions.

“Eyes open,” she orders. He doesn’t comply. “Mmm, are you  _ sure _ you want to make me work for it?” she asks, clearly delighted, and she forces her fingers between his neck and the ropes, twisting at the collar so it digs further into the flesh of his neck. “Eyes  _ open,” _ she repeats, and Taako writhes and twists, but he lacks the leverage to get away, his arms bound and his legs kicking uselessly, and he’s gagging on empty breaths, the constriction around his neck tighter, tighter. He hardly even registers that he’s opened his eyes, everything blurred splotches of light and pulsing black encroaching in at the edges, but Lydia releases him and he takes an enormous, heaving breath. It gets lost somewhere on the way to his lungs, and he starts coughing, his sore stomach aching with every failed inhale, the collar pulling at his neck every time his body jerks forward. 

He should have kept his eyes closed, let her choke him into oblivion. It’d be too easy if he could have goaded her into killing him, but blacking out would at least be a little reprieve. 

She stands, and he can make out that much, at least. He can’t focus on any details, only registering the bright shape of her and recalling the beautiful cut of her dress, and it’s the sound of fabric falling that really alerts him to the garment sliding off her, his eyes still struggling to keep up. She steps out of the dress pooled at her feet, and Taako’s willing to be that the shadows clinging to her are, in fact, fancy lingerie, but he can't make out anything beyond dark blurs.

Lydia makes a contemplative noise, stepping toward him, and one booted foot comes to rest on Taako’s ribcage. She leans her weight forward, and the pull and strain on his shoulders combined with the sharp pain of his broken ribs shifting under her foot presses a weak groan out of him. “There’s a certain balance I’d like to strike, here,” she says, her tone light and casual, as though she isn’t already keeping Taako teetering at the edge of consciousness with the constant breathplay. “I want you aware enough to appreciate the effort we’re going to.”

She leans down further, her leg folding beneath her, one hand descending to lay a gentle caress across Taako’s cheek. He flinches away, and she simply follows, carding her fingers through his hair. Her body is an illusion—he knows this fact, distantly—but her foot is heavy on his chest, her fingertips leave a comforting warmth in their wake, and he bites his lower lip to try to keep himself quiet. She brushes his bangs back and out of his eyes, tucking his hair behind his ear, in soothing, repetitive motions, and slowly, her face above his starts to come into focus. The pounding in his head gradually subsides, and his spinning vision calms, rights itself, and steadies. 

She’s healing him.

Cold panic plunges deep into his gut. He’d scoffed when she’d talked about letting him die—he hadn’t remembered that the rules of Wonderland didn’t apply to its hosts. 

Her grin widens as she sees his eyes go large with fear. “Perfect,” she purrs. “Much as I adore seeing you so incapacitated you can barely string two words together, I  _ am _ a performer at heart. You understand that, don’t you, Taako?” She straightens, and Taako chokes out a surprised gasp—she’d healed him, but only his concussion. His ribs still scream with pain under her boot as her weight shifts. “You understand how it feels to have a truly  _ captive _ audience.”

When it becomes apparent she’s waiting for a response, he can only nod. Someone else, he thinks, might be disgusted at how easily he understands the liches, but Taako doesn’t have time for an emotion as useless as that. Not when he understands them well enough to anticipate what’s coming next. 

Now that he can see properly once more, he notes that Lydia  _ is _ wearing lingerie, as he’d guessed, and it  _ is _ fancy. Beautiful lace decorates the straps that outline her perfect, illusory body; intricate patterns cup her breasts, her dark nipples just peaking out over the edge of the delicate lacework, and another set of straps outlines the junction of her legs, stark diagonals wrapping around her hips, their edges softened where yet more lace accentuates her form. Her boots, which reach as high as her knees, are made to match the rest of the ensemble; a supple, soft leather clings to her calves, strapped securely in place. 

Taako prefers men, but there’s no denying that Lydia is gorgeous, to a mesmerizing degree. Would he hate this more or less, he wonders, if his tormentors were ugly and brutish?

She lifts her boot from his chest, but it’s hardly a reprieve as she kneels down over him, her legs splayed across his shoulders. There is no fabric between her legs, no thin lace covering the dark patch of dense, curly hair. No point to it, guesses Taako; why make lingerie that you have to remove midway through? Her thumb wipes his upper lip clean, and she grins down at him. He can feel her, hot and wet, where she sits over his sternum; he can see her chest rise and fall with deep, anticipatory breaths. The question crosses his mind, of how or why she, as a lich, a fucking  _ magic skeleton,  _ is able to take pleasure from this, but the answer’s irrelevant when it’s clear that she  _ is _ enjoying every moment.

“Oh, Lydia,” comes Edward’s voice, and Taako gives another involuntary flinch. “I  _ asked _ you not to have too much fun without me.”

“You haven’t missed much,” she reassures him, looking up and to the side. Taako can see her brother come over to look down at them; he tries to school his face into a glare, impassive or at least baleful, but Edward only smirks at the sight. He bends down for a better view, his long hair falling from his shoulders to curtain his face, and he hooks his chin over Lydia’s shoulder. 

Taako stiffens as he sees Edward’s gloved hands come around to cup Lydia’s breasts, teasing her nipples as she sighs and leans back against him. “Well, no need to hold back, now,” he grins. Lydia makes a pleased hum, rocking her hips, and Edward sinks down to his knees next to her, kissing at her neck. 

‘Disgusting,’ is at the tip of Taako’s tongue, but he knows better than to voice the thought. Not because he doesn’t want to risk their ire, though. Despite his instinct for self-preservation, he’s never kept his mouth shut out of fear for his own well-being. What keeps him quiet now is the twitch of interest he can feel his own cock give at the sight of Edward’s elegant fingers kneading Lydia’s breasts, as she hums happily and drops her head back. He already knows that any of his body’s betrayals will be used against him; he’s not going to give the two of them his own words for the same purpose. 

“I think someone’s getting impatient,” Edward teases, knowingly smirking down at Taako. Lydia’s fingers rake through his hair, and she opens her eyes to fix her own stare on him. 

“We didn’t forget about you,” she reassures him. “Don’t worry.”

Any comeback he could make to that is lost as Lydia scoots forward, her thighs on either side of his face and her wet pussy on his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut and refuses to part his lips, and she giggles, fisting her hands in his hair and pulling. Taako only clenches his teeth harder. “Edward,” she trills, “he’s being uncooperative.”

“We can’t have that,” her brother replies, voice lilting, performative. Taako isn’t sure quite what he expects—more choking, maybe, or for Edward to shred his pants the way Lydia destroyed his top, and to go from there. What he’s  _ not _ prepared for is the sudden, stabbing pain of a blade plunged into his thigh; his back arcs as a scream tears out of him, and Lydia grinds her hips down. Taako sobs into her as Edward twists the knife—or dagger, or whatever—in Taako’s leg; automatically, his body bucks to try to dislodge Lydia, but her weight and the firm grip of Edward’s other hand keep him in place. He lets out another agonized keen—he’s never been good at being in pain, there’s a  _ reason _ his motto is ‘Taako’s good out here.’ Lydia tugs him by the hair, and he tries to give her what she wants, anything to make it  _ stop_. 

He’s quieted, but he hasn’t stopped sobbing, even as he presses his tongue into Lydia. Apparently that’s not enough; Edward sadistically drives the knife a little deeper, and Taako screams again, already hoarse. He can feel hot blood on his skin, gluing his pants to his leg, and aren’t there arteries or something down there? He thinks he remembers Merle discussing the importance of when to use which healing spells, that closing wounds was a greater priority with some injuries, because a body could only lose so much blood.

The thought that he could die now, simply because Edward doesn’t understand elf anatomy, is definitely too good to be true. 

Edward yanks the knife free, and Taako yells again, once more muffled into Lydia. She lets out a pleased moan, grinding down on his face.  _ “More,”  _ she demands, breathless, and Taako, whimpering, complies. He’s never slept with someone who had a vagina before, has no experience to draw on here, but at some point in his travels he must have either been drunk enough or close friends enough to talk shit with someone who did, because he knows Lydia’s clit is where she’s going to want him to focus his attentions. She moans again when he finds it, louder than before, and she rocks her hips with the strokes of his tongue. With her grip in his hair, she tilts his head, finding an angle she likes better, either ignoring or enjoying how Taako whines at the new strain it puts on his neck.

Edward’s hand on his thigh emits a comfortable, blooming sensation of warmth, and Taako lets out another muffled wail into Lydia as he realizes he’s being healed once more. 

“Very good,” Edward encourages, his thumb slipping through the hole he’s made in Taako’s bloodstained pants to rub at the bare skin of the newly healed scar. His other hand runs over Taako’s inner thigh, his palm pressed flat and his fingers splayed. His touch is searing, even through the fabric; Taako tries to angle his hips away, to escape Edward’s hands, and the lich’s grip turns harsh, fingers digging in as he holds Taako perfectly still. Lydia’s fists yank at his hair, pulling his focus back to her, and he quickly presses his tongue back to her clit. Her voice rises when his piercing runs over her, and he does it again, and again, despite the ache growing in his jaw. 

He’s shaking, he realizes. His face is wet with his tears and blood and Lydia’s fluids, he can’t stop all the wordless, miserable noises from making their way out of his throat, and they’ve hardly gotten started. Doubtless Edward can feel his trembling, where he runs his hands up and down Taako’s thighs. 

Lydia is practically thrusting into his face, now, her movements growing rapid, her moans becoming more akin to shouts. Her thighs clench around Taako’s head, pinning his ears to his skull, and she cries out one last time, her full voice trailing off into a quiet, satisfied moan as she shudders and stills. Taako knows how much it sucks for a blow job to cut off at the best part, and he doesn’t want to get stabbed again, so he continues to lick long, slow stripes between her folds as she comes down from her orgasm. She’s panting deep, heavy breaths; her fists finally unclench, and she runs her fingers through Taako’s hair as though rewarding him. Like petting a dog. 

“Not too terrible,” she purrs, sitting back just enough that she’s no longer over Taako’s mouth. He lets his jaw drop, slack, breathing loudly through his open mouth. 

Lydia stays seated on Taako’s chest while she recovers her breath, and he tries to focus on the contradiction of that, the fact that she’s dead and technically shouldn’t even need to breathe. It’s unfortunately not enough to distract him from her touch as she continues to absently pet him. Edward rises, and Taako watches with a sort of numb dread as the lich gathers billowing black smoke around him, summoning a bed with thick, plush covers and a sturdy, wooden headboard, handcuffs already hanging from the posts. 

“Well, let me give him a try, then,” Edward smiles down at them. Lydia makes a pleased sound a little too low pitched to really be a giggle, and she holds her hand out expectantly. Edward helps her up, and the two of them take a moment to look down at Taako with matching smug smiles. 

He turns his head to the side, unwilling to return their gazes. 

“It truly is a delight,” says Edward, leisurely walking around Taako. “You  _ know _ you’ll only make things worse for yourself by putting up a fight, but you can’t help yourself, can you?” He looms over the bound elf, his face in shadow, but his bright teeth and the twin golden hoops on his lower lip catch the light when he grins. “You simply can’t bring yourself to submit, even though you brought this on yourself.”

Taako glares, and he expects it when Edward only laughs at him. Restrained and helpless at the lich’s feet, blood and come and tears on his face, he certainly isn’t going to be intimidating anyone. But it does mean that Edward’s feeling complacent as he continues his circuit around Taako, and so he’s taken completely by surprise when Taako’s foot shoots out and catches him in the back of the knee. He crumples with a yelp, and Taako brings his other foot up, aiming to drive his heel into Edward’s terrible, handsome face, now that he’s brought the lich down to his level. 

Edward catches his foot by the ankle before the blow can connect. Taako twists at the hips, trying to kick again with his free leg; at the same time, blue sparks begin to crackle under Edward’s fingers. The Witch Bolt shocks through Taako, and he starts to scream, his joints locking and his muscles spasming. His back arcs up off the floor, electricity wracking through his body, and he jerks and writhes and shrieks until his lungs are empty. Jagged lances of pain spread through his every vein, and his open mouth continues trying to make broken little noises as he shudders and thrashes under the spell. 

Edward rises to his feet, arcs of lightning from his fingers still dancing across Taako’s body as he stands. It’s possible he says something, but Taako can’t process the sounds, not against the sharp agony in his ribs and the bursts of pain streaking through his limbs. He’s reduced to twitching, and his legs give tiny, involuntary kicks each time his body quakes under the assault. Even when Edward drops the spell, letting the last sparking bolts fall from his hand, Taako’s body continues to tremble from the residual pain. 

Despite his overwhelmed senses, despite that he can’t move or speak, he doesn't miss the insult, that Edward doesn't feel the need to use a higher level spell to subdue him.

He lets out a tiny groan when Edward grabs him by the hair and lifts, but his body is limp as he’s dragged to the bed; he can hardly wiggle his toes when he tries to will his legs to move, to dig his heels in. He’s not pliant—muscles still contracting under the memory of the electricity, tension stiff in his back and neck and thighs—but there’s no true resistance when Edward drops him face-down onto the mattress, nor when he feels his hips being lifted and fingers undoing his belt, tugging his pants down to his knees. 

The bed shifts, and another set of fingers begins to play with the hair curling at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t need to turn his head to see that it’s Lydia next to him. Edward runs the flats of his palms up Taako’s thighs, and he shivers, biting down another whine. The lich has taken off his gloves at some point, and his hands are hot on Taako’s skin.

Lydia’s fingernails are featherlight, teasing and playful, and Edward’s touch is firm but gentle, following the shape of Taako's hips. Taako’s breath hitches when Edward reaches down to take him in hand, chuckling as he wraps his fingers around Taako’s half-hard dick. “Enjoying yourself?” he asks, giving a few slow strokes, and Taako’s shoulders heave as he gives a muffled sob into the mattress. 

“I  _ did _ think he was suspiciously cooperative,” Lydia remarks, and Taako presses his face further into the bedding, clinging to the pain of his broken nose. He manages to stop the next miserable cry that wants to leave his mouth, but not the wisps of black smoke that trail up. He won't beg. He won't plead for them to stop. As awful as it is every time they imply he wants what’s being done to him, he knows how much worse it will be if he tries to say no. He won't. 

Edward laughs, taking his hands back, and even though Taako knows what comes next, he still flinches when he feels Edward spread the cheeks of his ass, one slick finger pressing in without preamble. The soft bedding is growing damp under his face, and Lydia pretends to soothe him as she pets his hair. 

It’s far more preparation than Taako would have expected, but when Edward hooks his fingers and rips a strangled moan out of Taako’s throat, he understands why. The lich coaxes Taako’s voice out bit by bit, leisurely working two and then three fingers into him, until Taako has to turn his head to the side to draw in deep, shaky breaths, until Taako’s unwilling moans are rising in a crescendo, until Taako himself is rocking his hips back.

Lydia wipes the tears off his cheeks, and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see her bright, cruel smile. “That’s right,” she encourages, pushing his bangs back from where blood and sweat have stuck them to his forehead. “There’s no need to hold back anymore. Not with  _ us.” _

Edward withdraws his fingers, and Taako is left gasping, little tremors running down his thighs as he holds himself still instead of pushing his hips back to follow Edward’s touch. He can have at least that much control. There’s no time to catch his breath before Edward’s holding him open, and he goes still as he feels the head of Edward’s dick pressing into him. 

“Let it all out,” Edward orders, and as his hips buck forward, Taako obeys. He doesn’t fight the first yell when Edward thrusts into him, and he doesn’t make any effort to bite back the other noises Edward fucks out of him, little grunts and moans and whimpers as Edward snaps his hips. His illusory skin slaps against Taako’s with each thrust, as he fucks Taako fast and hard, gripping the elf’s hips painfully tight. He’s long, so much so that it’s painful each time he’s fully sheathed inside Taako, the kind of little hurt that in another scenario, Taako might relish. Now, it only transforms his moans into sobs, catching messy in his throat and nose every time he rocks forward under the force of Edward’s thrusts.

His body’s finally gone lax; Edward’s fingers digging into his pelvic bone are all that keeps him from slumping over. His dick is achingly, undeniably hard, bouncing under him as he’s fucked; he wants to come, he wants to wake up from this, he wants to die. He wails, keening miserably as Lydia murmurs sweet encouragements, telling him he's doing so well, he's suffering so nicely for them, and he wants to be good for them, doesn't he? Edward's dick pounds into him relentlessly, thrusts somehow becoming even more rapidfire, and his whimpering rises to despairing shouts, drowning out Edward's grunts and moans. 

Small mercies: Edward doesn’t speak while he’s fucking Taako. It’s only Lydia’s poison voice he has to listen to.

Edward's movements grow frantic, hips pounding forward with shallow, quick motions, until with a long groan, he goes still, dick buried fully in Taako's ass. His inexplicable breaths are loud and heavy, and Taako can feel the wet heat of the lich coming inside of him. Despite that Edward's movements have stopped, Taako's sobs haven't; he tries to swallow down his next cry and winds up choking on it, hiccuping and shaking. 

Edward pulls out of him with a small, content moan, and Taako slumps over immediately. He’s still hard, not to mention wet, stretched out, and filthy—not in a metaphorical sense, but very literally, knowing that the slippery wetness he feels in his ass is the mix of lube and come that Edward’s left behind. And that’s not even considering the sweat and blood covering the rest of him.

“That was marvelous,” Lydia says, one hand cupping Taako’s cheek. He takes a tremulous, shuddering breath, as she leans down to bring her face closer to his. Her eyes flutter shut as she inhales deeply, sucking in the black smoke that now constantly leaks from his mouth. 

Edward stretches out next to Taako on the bed, throwing an arm over him with all the casual intimacy of a lover. Taako stiffens, but Edward’s arm doesn’t move lower, doesn’t reach for his cock, and while he doesn’t relax, he allows himself to exhale, at least. “It’s a  _ very _ promising start,” Edward agrees. His chest presses against Taako’s bound arms as he pulls himself closer; the ghost of a breath over Taako’s neck is all the warning he gets before Edward’s teeth close over his earlobe. 

Lydia opens her eyes as she tilts her head and closes the gap between herself and Taako. He thinks about shutting his mouth and turning his head; he thinks about biting her as hard as he can, as if her conjured form is capable of bleeding. He does neither of those things, merely whimpering as she sucks at his lips and his tongue, drinking down Taako’s suffering at the source. Her eyes stay open the entire time.

“What do you think, Lydia,” Edward begins, hooking his chin over Taako’s shoulder. “Should we give him a rest before round two?”

Lydia pulls back, licking at her lips as she meets Edward’s gaze. “Mm, he  _ will _ be more easy to hurt if we give him a little time to recover. If we go too fast, he might get desensitized.”

“But on the other hand, that’s time when he  _ could _ be suffering,” Edward considers. “I suppose it becomes a matter of quantity over quality, then.”

“Look at it this way,” Lydia says, dropping her hand to play idly with Taako’s nipple piercings. His pitiful whining is nothing more than background noise to her, as she goes on. “He’ll torment  _ himself _ waiting for us. He won’t be able to think about anything else but how we’re going to make him suffer next, or how much he misses his friends. And  _ we _ can attend to the rest of Wonderland’s participants.”

“Excellent point.”

“Well, Taako?” Lydia’s gaze slides to Taako’s, her smirk growing. “I hope you aren’t too disappointed to find out that Edward and I will be leaving you alone for a little while. But I have faith you’ll be able to entertain yourself.” 

Sandwiched between two liches, ribs and nose broken, every muscle sore and unresponsive, come drying on his face and in his ass, Taako understands that a smarter elf would know when to quit, and would give Lydia whatever answer she sought. A smarter elf would cringe and cry and plead, here; she’s clearly waiting for such a response. 

Taako is a simple idiot wizard. “Rot in hell,” he wheezes.

He’s not surprised when Lydia casts Burning Hands, and the flames wash over him. He manages to force one more agonized scream out of his abused throat before everything goes black.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came about because I drew something along the same lines about a week ago, and still couldn't get the idea out of my head. If you'd like to see it, all the same warnings from this fic apply to the fanart, but you can view it here: [http://dontlookitsfilthy.tumblr.com/post/159683938042/](http://dontlookitsfilthy.tumblr.com/post/159683938042/warning-the-drawing-posted-below-the-cut)


End file.
